


Distraction

by squidmemesinc



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 14:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4104987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hajime gets home from the library just before midnight. He’s tired after studying with his classmates for the last five hours and wants nothing more than to chug down the glass of water he left on his desk and to go to sleep. But Oikawa needs him, and he's not going to just ignore him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peppersnot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppersnot/gifts).



> Hgdlfjsdlkf I started like three different things with this but I guess I'm perpetually in porn mode ; n; Also, all my IwaOi is like....super gay. Sorry lmao.

Hajime gets home from the library just before midnight. He’s tired after studying with his classmates for the last five hours and wants nothing more than to chug down the glass of probably now lukewarm water he left on his desk and to go to sleep. When he steps into the apartment he shares with Oikawa, the lights are off, except the one above the stove that they always leave on in case one of them gets home later than the other. Oikawa must be asleep already, since he’s not hanging out in here watching a show (common), raiding the fridge (slightly less common), or doing his homework (rare). Hajime is thankful for the soft glow, which is not so bright that it’s hurting his tired eyes, but illuminates the kitchen and hallway gently enough that he can sleepily slip out of his shoes and trudge into his room.

He doesn’t turn the light on in his room either as he drops his bag at the foot of his desk and starts taking off his clothes. It’s warm enough this time of year that he can just sleep in his underwear under the top sheet, or on top of it if the mood strikes him. The water on his desk is as un-chilled as he’d predicted, but he drinks it anyway, and moves to climb into bed. It’s only then that he realizes there’s already someone in it.

Oikawa’s back is turned to him, and he’s curled up on top of the sheets but under the blanket Hajime usually keeps at the end of his bed. This isn’t particularly unusual; sometimes Oikawa sleeps with him. He’s done it ever since they were kids; he’d never accept the floor at sleepovers, always forcing his way into Hajime’s bed next to him. It wasn’t that frequent of an occurrence in high school, but now that they’re (after several years of mutual pining) together, it’s become more common. Usually when he wants sex, but sometimes just because he likes Hajime’s warmth, the comfort of having another body next to him.

He’s not sure if Oikawa’s asleep, but either way, he just wants to pass out, so he gets into bed as quietly as he can.

“Iwa-chan.” Oikawa sits up and leans forward over his legs, looking down at Hajime with an expression as tired as Hajime feels.

“Hey,” he says quietly, resisting the urge to close his aching eyes.

Oikawa pushes off the blanket and tugs up the leg of his pajama pants to reveal a knee brace, not like the one he wore in high school, but sturdier, and Hajime is suddenly blinking himself awake. He sits up, looking at him intently, heart sinking. “What did you do? How long has it been bad?” Of course, the one day he didn’t go to practice. Something must have happened.

“Don’t get mad. I can’t play for six months.”

Six months. _Six months!_ “Dammit, Oikawa—” He begins, but he catches the excessive frustration in his own voice and cuts himself off. He forces himself to swallow down his own feelings and think of Oikawa. “Does it hurt?”

He quirks a smile, looking half-heartedly devious. “What will saying yes get me?”

“A smack on the head, if you’re lying,” Hajime threatens.

“Iwa-chan, so mean! What kind of boyfriend are you? I’m clearly despondent.”

He snorts. “Clearly.”

Oikawa pouts for a second in the dark and lays back down on the bed, unfurling his leg and looking up at the ceiling. He sighs. “I could use a distraction,” he says more honestly.

Hajime watches him for a minute, trying to pick out the curves of that face he loves in the darkness of his room. He is angry that Oikawa worked himself too hard again, that he hid it from him (and also that he was so busy that he didn’t even notice), but maybe he should leave that until morning when Oikawa’s had time to forgive himself.

He settles back down into bed, lying close to Oikawa. He props one arm under himself and leans down to kiss him gently. Oikawa’s fingers immediately go up to his hair and he curves his body to fit into Hajime’s, being careful of his knee.

Oikawa’s persistent with his tongue until Hajime opens his mouth and suddenly bites him. He lets out a little squeak but otherwise doesn’t seem to mind. Hajime knows he likes it, because he’ll instigate it often enough himself, and he kisses like he wants to be kissed.

He knows what kind of distraction Oikawa wants. He deepens their kiss, thrusting his tongue in deeper, making Oikawa exhale hard through his nose. His breath tickles Hajime’s cheek pleasantly, coming out a little harder than normal. Hajime slips his hand under the thin cotton of Oikawa’s t-shirt, running his fingers over his hip, his stomach, moving higher to thumb over his nipples, making Oikawa moan and scratch at Hajime’s bare back with his short fingernails. His muscles twitch under the soft scrape of Hajime’s calloused fingers, slightly ticklish.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmurs against his lips, twisting against him for more contact, gasping when Hajime moves his palm down to grind against Oikawa’s cock. “Iwa-chan, mm! Ahh…” He rolls his hips against Hajime’s hand, dropping away from his mouth and pulling his neck down so he can breathe hard into it. Hajime applies firm pressure, cupping his fingers around Oikawa’s balls and sliding up his hardening shaft, then back down, up again.

Oikawa’s moans grow more persistent, and Hajime eventually breaks away from the kiss and starts tugging down his pants. He’s careful of his knee, not bending it too much as he slides the material over it and down his calves. “Move back,” he says huskily. Oikawa nods, and Hajime thinks he sees a dopey sort of smile on his face even in the dark as he obliges. Hajime nudges his legs apart and settles between them on his stomach. He curls his hand around Oikawa’s cock and smirks when he bites his lip at the contact on his bare skin.

Oikawa draws his legs up a little, moaning as Hajime gives him a few good pulls. He watches his eyes flutter closed and mouth drop open; his shoulders sag and he’s gripping Hajime’s sheets tightly. “Iwa-chan,” he says again.

Hajime holds Oikawa’s cock in front of him, licks a long stripe up from base to tip with the broad, flat part of his tongue. Oikawa shakes and groans, moving a hand to squeeze at his shoulder. Hajime tongues at the slit, tasting his salt before dipping under his foreskin, smoothing along the head.

“ _Ah_ , Iwa-chan…” He trails his fingers up to Hajime’s hair, resting his palm on top of his head as his nails lightly scratch.

“No pushing this time,” Hajime orders, breaking off and looking up at him sharply.

“I’ll be good, I promise.” He looks a little too sure, but he sucks in a sharp breath when Hajime licks him roughly again. He wastes no time sinking down over his thick, hard cock, though he keeps his mouth loose and open at first, just wrapping him in heat. He works his tongue over him again without sucking, fully aware of how Oikawa’s fingers are tightening in his hair as he tries not to push down or thrust his hips up. He feels his lips strain into a contorted smile at Oikawa’s impatience.

Hajime adjusts his position slightly, groaning as his hips shift against the bed and his own erection gets some much needed friction, and Oikawa’s groan is low and desperate. “Iwa-chan, please,” he mumbles, unable to resist canting up a little.

So he hollows out his cheeks and sucks, sinking down a little lower with his lips tight over Oikawa’s cock, making him moan high and loud. He pulls off a little and sucks harder, following his mouth with his hand. He’ll have to get him slicker to make it easier to rub across his skin comfortably, so he lets his mouth get wet, messy and sloppy and leaking over Oikawa’s cock as he bobs up and down over it.

He works him over with his mouth and his hand, offering well timed moans to add vibrations that are always quickly matched with Oikawa’s own sounds. He takes to gently rolling his hips, but after last time when he nearly choked Hajime with his enthusiasm, he does seem to be a bit more careful. Maybe part of it is that he doesn’t want to jostle his knee too much, which is probably a good thing for both of them.

Oikawa’s moans start coming with such a frequency that Hajime can tell he’s close. His nails are digging into Hajime’s scalp, and his flesh feels impossibly hard under his lips, and he’s leaking steadily into his mouth, onto his tongue. He swallows around him a couple times, trying to clear the mess, and this brings Oikawa over the edge. He gives a low, drawn out moan, and Hajime swallows again and again until he starts to go limp.

Hajime’s face is a mess, he thinks, and he turns and wipes his arm across his mouth before Oikawa can say anything sassy about it. He lies down again, on his back this time, and lazily rubs against his own erection, which is bordering on painful at this point. Oikawa slides down next to him and pants against his shoulder, but Hajime knows he’s watching his hand.

“I want—” There’s the sound of him licking his lips, swallowing to try to clear his dry throat. “—Can we go again? Can you wait for me? Five minutes. Well, maybe seven.”

Hajime groans and moves his hand away from his cock, turning on his side so he can lightly headbutt Oikawa.

“I’m sorry. Thank you.” He leans in and nudges Hajime’s face with his nose until he turns and kisses him again, this time slower, more languid, as he’s still breathing a little hard. He moves to rub circles into Hajime’s hip above the hem of his boxers as he presses gentle kisses to the sides of Hajime’s mouth. Hajime tugs at his hair to open up his throat, sucks at the skin. He moves over him, pressing flat against him and forcing himself not to move so there’s no unnecessary friction on Oikawa’s currently over-sensitive body.

They kiss for a while, slow at first, but gradually ramping up to where they were before. Hajime just follows Oikawa’s lead, matching tongue for tongue, teeth for teeth, waiting for him to recover. He relishes in Oikawa’s hands roaming his bare back, with his nails trailing lightly over his flesh, or plucking at the waistband of his boxers, just barely slipping beneath it. Hajime has always loved Oikawa’s hands. His slender fingers, calloused and perfect, sometimes bandaged against little pains Hajime can kiss away. Having them on him is enough to make him excited, as if he wasn’t already.

After a while, Oikawa starts to roll his hips against Hajime’s. Slowly, tentatively, as if he’s not sure he wants him to notice. Maybe he’s pretending he’s just shifting, trying to get more comfortable, but Hajime can pick up the cues from his voice, growing louder in between their flushed lips. He kisses across Oikawa’s cheek and down his jaw to his neck, nipping lightly at the skin there. Oikawa’s arms tighten around him in response; his nails dig into Hajime’s shoulders, and he keens up into him more surely.

Hajime grinds down on him as he bites and sucks at his neck. Oikawa doesn’t bruise too easily, but with enough enthusiasm, he can leave a mark. A distraction. Something for him to catch sight of in the mirror, casually or with careful attention, trailing his fingers over the painless bruise, to remember that Hajime wants him even when he’s not setting to him. He will validate him, support him in other ways, show him that he’s worth more than just his skills on the court.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispers against his shoulder, thrusting up hard. Hajime answers by breaking away and kissing him. Oikawa moans from deep in his throat and slides his hands down Hajime’s back, pushing his boxers down his hips. Hajime lets him, gasps when he feels Oikawa’s slick cock, hard once again, slide against his own. Soon after, Oikawa’s hand is nudging between them, wrapping around them both. They both sigh in relief at the same time before rejoining in a passionately inspired kiss as they start to thrust against each other.

Hajime’s not far from the end, since he’s already lasted through one of Oikawa’s orgasms, but he’s still willing himself to hold out longer. Still, his breathing is ragged and shaky as he kisses him a little desperately, and he can’t help letting his guard drop a little. “Oikawa, _fuck,_ ” he murmurs against him. His eyes are pinched shut and he’s distracted by his long fingers, his hot, hard cock rubbing against his own.

“Mm, Iwa-chan…” He thrusts back particularly forcefully, maybe a little sloppy. “ _Hajime_ ,” he whispers. He pulls Hajime close in against him, and Hajime feels a chill run through him. “Iwa-chan” and “Oikawa” have been so normal for them for so long. Making the shift from best friends to lovers was such a small adjustment that nothing else really needed to change all that much, so whenever he hears his first name slip out in situations like these, it feels special to him.

“Tooru,” he murmurs back, gasping against Oikawa’s own panting. “Tooru, I—” He can’t last any longer, he can’t. He gives a staggered moan and comes, still thrusting into Oikawa’s hand, against his cock, making a mess of Oikawa’s pajama shirt, no doubt. He can feel himself sliding easier against him, aided by his own cum, can feel Oikawa’s grip hold firm to guide him through his orgasm.

Hajime slides back to the side, giving Oikawa some room to breathe. He rubs at Oikawa’s shoulder soothingly as he continues to jerk himself off, listening to the slick sound of his hand against his cock, his feet shuffling against the sheets.

“Hajime,” Oikawa says again, turning his head towards him.

Hajime kisses his nose, his cheeks. He catches his breath for a moment and then pushes Oikawa’s hand away, taking over his ragged movements with his own firm, quick strokes. He whispers Oikawa’s name into his shoulder until he comes for the second time, hips jerking against Hajime’s hand, letting out a choked moan. Hajime strokes him through it, waits until his body slackens to move his hand from his dick to his side, rubbing against his heaving ribcage as he tries to return his breathing to normal.

They lie together in the quiet darkness for a while, chests heaving and what minimal clothes they have sticking to them with sweat and other stickiness. After a bit, Hajime tugs his boxers up his thighs again to a more comfortable position, rescues the blanket from its banished station at the edge of the bed and throws it over Oikawa. Oikawa burrows into his shoulder, and he throws an arm around him, breathing regularly into his neck.

Hajime feels like he could very easily fall asleep like this, if not for the incessant ping of worry that’s been lingering at the back of his mind. “Oikawa,” he says quietly. Oikawa doesn’t answer for a bit. “Tooru,” he tries instead.

Oikawa shifts, pressing his face firmly into Hajime’s hair. “Hajime,” he answers, sounding very sleepy but also happy.

“Are you…okay?” He’s hesitant to even ask. Maybe it would be better to let Oikawa just bask in the afterglow. But he also knows from experience that tomorrow he might pretend there isn’t even anything wrong. Maybe it’s underhanded, but maybe now is the best time to ask. He moves his thumb back and forth over Oikawa’s arm, searching for any signs of tensing. He stays loose and relaxed, though.

“Mm,” he hums softly.

“Oikawa,” Hajime says, stronger, threatening against any possible deception.

“Really. As long as I have my Iwa-chan, I’ll be fine.”

Hajime kisses him gently on the collarbone and hugs him tightly for a moment. The sentiment means a lot to him, so much that he can’t think of any words to convey something similar back. But he thinks Oikawa knows.


End file.
